Arrival in Ferrara

The trip here went OK – a few almost possible annoyances. Bus to Edinburgh centre, bus from centre to airport, wait in very crowded area for check-in desk to open, showed Australian passport with boarding pass and realised later that I must have used my British passport when checking in because in huge letters boarding pass had Nationality – British written. Checkin guy did not care. Got through security checks ( very long queue) and could not find a postbox for 3 postcards, asked a guy taking a wheelchair somewhere and he said he would post them for me – so who knows if they will reach their intended destination. Plane very full – several classes of Italian teenagers. Bus from airport into centre very overcrowded and I might have had a problem if several people whose luggage was blocking me did not want to get out at train station like me. Queued up for train ticket – had to choose 1 of 2 queues and I could not understand the signs that said the difference. Going on the grumpiness of the man behind the window I guessed wrong, but I still got a ticket. Train to Ferrara. Walked to accommodation.

This is a lovely light airy studio apartment on the second floor of a building that the owners of the apartment live in. There is a little balcony overlooking the garden that belongs to them. They showed me how things worked, where the nearest supermarket was etc . I was tired ( by this time it was 7pm and I had left the apartment in Edinburgh at 8.15 am) and looking forward to organising myself and having an early night., but they asked if I would like to go to a sagra with them that evening. Apparently in spring and summer the local villages organise themselves and they take it in turns to organise a sagra – a sort of festival with local food and sometimes dancing and sometimes parades. Of course I went. After a drive of about 20minutes we got to this place – a large hall next to an oval set up with simple fold up tables but nicely decorated. The menu had quite a few dishes particular to Ferrara and some from the surrounding area. All this was explained to me. I learnt that somarino was donkey – leave that for another day. This whole area is known for its egg pasta rather than the dried sort of further south. In particular both cappelletti and cappellacci come from here. I had cappelletti which are sort of like ravioli but rougher filled with different sorts of meat. I had them in a broth , typical of here. Then some grilled prawns and vegies. Vino rosso, of course, when in Rome and all that. About 30 local women had spent the day making pasta, cooking and there were 10 there on the night. Families, groups of friends, all sorts. After a while quite noisy. I thanked the organiser and was quite pleased at how much Italian my very tired brain could manage. So by the time we got back it was 10pm and I vaguely wondered whether there would be anyone that might wonder if I was lost somewhere between Edinburgh and Ferrara but the thought came and went as I fell into bed.

A small world story. As some of you know, the lady who owns this place comes from Perth. Turns out that she went to school, in the same class, as my elder sister-in-law!